


Deduction and Seduction, Minus the Laser Swords

by JadeDove



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Action & Romance, Alternative Universe - FBI, Eventual Romance, F/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform, Swordfighting, key word eventual, literal swords, no not the star wars kind, star wars prequels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeDove/pseuds/JadeDove
Summary: You’re slowly developing feelings for your longtime partner in the FBI, Special Agent Kenobi. So what happens when you’re both in a life or death situation on the job? Some revelations, that’s for sure.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	1. A Coffee Stain. A Pistol. A Sudden Confession.

You’re wading through the seemingly endless piles of busywork while rain taps at the window of the field office building. Your eyes dart to the time display on the seemingly-ancient computer provided by the bureau (you’d asked the higher ups multiple times for replacements, but evidently no one seems to listen to the rank-and-files anymore). 23:08. A groan slips past your lips as you run a hand through your hair. You make a mental note to shower when you get home. And how come your feet still ache from your heels even though you’d barely gotten up from your desk all day? As your thoughts continue to drift sleepily away from the task at hand, the sound of something hitting your desk tugs you out of dreamland.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” a gentle voice whispers, the source of a cup of semi-acceptable coffee. Ah. You’d forgotten that your partner was still at the office. You turn your head slightly to gaze up at Special Agent Obi-Wan Kenobi. He cut his hair. He looks much more…mature, yes that’s the work-appropriate word. He’s missing the silky locks at the back, with that tiny wave at the bottom that you’d stared at on more than a few field missions. The beard was a little longer, too. 

Oh god, you hadn’t even bothered to look at him today. You’d rushed to your desk to get an early start on a new assignment. Your heart shrivels out of guilt, and evidently it’s clear on your face. Obi’s eyebrows knit together in concern, an expression you’ve etched into your brain by now. “Is…is everything alright?” he stammered, unsure of what to say to console you. 

“No no no! I’m sorry,” you stutter, turning quickly in your chair to fully face him. “Shit, I’ve been so busy with…everything that I didn’t even notice that you cut your hair. It looks handsome, Obi.” He smirks and runs a hand through his hair, sweeping back a few strands that had fallen onto the middle of his forehead. “Yes, I suppose it does. Although, it rather upset me this morning when you didn’t comment. If you had gone to the break room you would’ve witnessed me sobbing on the sofa, drowning in my own sorrow,” he says, as he equips an expression of anguish. 

“The couch with the moldy cushion?” You question.

“The couch with the moldy cushion,” he sighs as you theatrically turn to gaze horrified at the break room door. After a few beats of silence, you break into giggles and he looks back at you, a warm smile creeping onto his face. Your gazes lock for a split second longer than your average moment when you conveniently remember something in order to drag your focus away from his stupidly gorgeous azure eyes. “You still having trouble with Sarek?”

He groans and drags a hand down his face. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles as he trudges to his desk a few feet behind you and collapses dramatically into his chair. You grimace in apology and he gives a half-hearted smile in return. Sarek, a Trandoshan hunter who’d slipped through Agent Kenobi’s grasp several times, had struck again, this time kidnapping an assortment of women. The problem? Despite Kenobi’s talent for making connections, he’d made none between any of the victims that had been reported missing, no matter how many times he combed through their files. 

It isn't easy to seep the determination out of Obi Wan Kenobi, but Sarek has almost done it.

You feel his eyes on you as you pivot back to your busywork. As you begin sorting through the manila folders, you take a sip of coffee and set it down. Obi packs up his things and gives you a nod goodbye before strolling out of the building. Going to pick up your cup of coffee for another caffeine charge, you realize you've set it on a file. A few choice curses cut through the silence before you pause, the cup in your hand hovering above a chestnut circle now imprinted on the page. Circled by the cup's stain is a familiar location, Kina's Coven. You wrack your brain to remember where it's from and it hits you: Obi Wan had referenced it when he first talked to you about the case. The connection. This could be it. 

You leap out of your seat so fast you nearly ram into Kenobi's desk behind you. If I run I can catch him on his way out, you realize, and barrel through the glass double doors into the hallway. Quickly approaching the doors to the lobby, your hands fly out in front of you to push them open. The little air in your lungs is then knocked out as you collide with something and fall to the ground. 

A leather briefcase thumps onto the carpet and you search for the person you knocked over to quickly find a mildly disgruntled but mostly amused Agent Kenobi lifting his head just a few inches in front of you, his breath tickling your cheeks and a grin lighting up his face. 

"Hello there."

You look down and see that, while trying to break your fall, you've planted your hands on the plush carpet to either side of Obi Wan's chest. You’re also on top of him, your legs partially layered over his. Your face reddens and you scramble haphazardly to get off of your partner before someone walks in and sees you in such a...compromising position (yes, in the middle of the night, of course). 

Thank God for push-to-open doors. 

You brush off your pants and roll your shoulders. Despite rambling apologies, he waves you off and straightens his suit jacket. "It's alright," he remarks. "I haven't gotten that much action in a long time."

"Yes, I assumed you hadn't" you quip, a smirk paired with a raised brow painted on your face. "But that's not what I'm here for. I think I found something that will help your case." At that, Kenobi straightens, his eyes searching yours in question. 

"Kina’s Coven recently reported one of their dancers missing, a Mirialan named Kaiela Hveti.” you explain, and your partner’s eyes widen.

“Kina’s? Most crimes at that lovely establishment are swept under the rug, are they not?” he asks. “Few of our agents have been able to gather significant evidence against them.” You nod your head towards the door to the hallway and start walking, Kenobi trailing soon behind you. 

“Not this one. Evidently Kaiela is a crowd favorite, meaning she isn’t someone they’re willing to lose without a fight,” you remark. “And I’m not just any agent, Kenobi. You of all people should know that,” you say, shooting him a playful wink and pulling open the glass doors back into the office. 

Obi lowers himself into his desk chair, hunched over with elbows on his knees. You smile to yourself as you shuffle through the files on your desk with your back to your partner. Part of the reason why the two of you rose through the ranks so fast was your trust in each other; neither one of you was scared of being seen as weak or stupid if they had to ask the other for help. You learned about his “negotiate with deduction and knockout charm until someone ends up firing a gun” method quickly (which worked surprisingly well). He learned about your "figure out everything seconds before you might die" trick, too.

You practically read each other’s minds. You take care of each other.

Is that why your heart has been trying to squeeze its way out of your ribs whenever he utilizes his aforementioned charm lately?

You shake your head in an effort to clear your thoughts and hand Obi Wan the paper with the coffee stain, which he spots (of course) and raises a brow at before his head shoots up.

"You're making the face," you say, smiling softly. His mouth is barely open, eyes wide and searching the document. You wouldn't be surprised if you heard gears grinding in his brain. He doesn't answer, so you comically wave a hand in front of his face. "I'm guessing that this helps…?" you trail off, waiting for Obi to come out of his 'Eureka.' He snaps out of his reverie and beams at you, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. 

"Ok, Kenobi, I can't read minds, so you'll have to elaborate on your discovery," you said, walking back to your desk and sitting on the edge, crossing your arms. He looks at you strangely, so quickly you almost don't catch it, but then his face shifts into neutral before you can raise a brow. 

"One of our intelligence analysts found email correspondence between Sarek and someone going by the initials K.H. It was...intimate. They are lovers, or at least they were, from what I could gather," he explains, stroking his beard. 

"Did he frequent places like Kina's?" you ask. He shakes his head and you frown. Another dead end is materializing in front of you, as much as you hate to admit it. But all of the sudden, your partner snaps his fingers and grins. 

"He didn't frequent the Coven, but if I recall correctly…" he fumbles through a stack of manila folders on the corner of his desk and triumphantly holds up a piece of paper. "Some of his friends operate in that area-"

"And Sarek doesn't want to be seen around them out of fear of being connected with their operations." you finish, nodding to yourself. Obi smirks, reading over the file again. "Little does he know, we've managed to dig up how Sarek is connected to each of them. Not the most rock-solid evidence, but enough to arouse suspicion," he remarks. 

"So...are you thinking what I'm thinking?" you smile as your knee bounces in anticipation. 

"If you're thinking of paying a visit to Kina's, then yes, I suppose I am," Obi sasses. The both of you share a look before darting up and racing out of the office to get ready. 

\----

There’s no way I’m getting into a strip club in a pantsuit, you think, staring at the questionable outfits in lockup. After what feels like months of searching, you find an incredibly revealing cocktail dress (much to your chagrin) and pumps. As you look at your new outfit, you sigh. Obi Wan didn’t even have to change out of his suit, and he’s probably waiting for you outside now. Blush blooms bright on your cheeks as you think of how on earth you’re going to keep it together, attempting to look sexy next to one of the most attractive people you know while also trying not to pin him to a wall and aggressively make out with him. Maintaining an air of professionalism is difficult when you’re simultaneously processing newfound, violently intense feelings for your longtime friend. After strapping a holster for your pistol to your thigh, you nod at your reflection in the mirror. Your shaky legs make their way out of the bathroom and head towards the garage. After a nervous deep breath and applying a coat of lipstick, you step out into the lot. 

It doesn’t take you long to find Obi Wan leaning up against a jet black Maserati and your heart slams against your chest. He hears the echo of your heels and glances up. Upon seeing you, his whole stance shifts. He straightens his posture and squares his shoulder, straightening his tie and loosening his collar. A soft smile adorns your lips and you relax seeing his boyish panic. 

“Ready to go? Have everything you need?” You notice that he combed his hair back into place. Obi clears his throat awkwardly, not something he does often. You’re so used to seeing him cool and collected under pressure and shake your head, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You sure I can bring you to a strip club? I don’t know if you can handle the literal strippers if you can’t handle your friend in a dress,” you tease.

“That’s not— I— hmph,” He mutters, unable to come up with a coherent comeback. Instead, he opens the passenger door for you and avoids eye contact. Was that a tinge of red on his cheeks? You don’t have time to look closer because he ushers you into the car, almost rudely.

——

The electronica pulses in the floor and up through your body as you stalk the bar, searching for anyone that matches the pictures Obi Wan gave to you in the car on the ride there. The two of you had split up, him waltzing down to the dance floor leaving you to shiver at some of the looks these men were giving you at the bar. You risk a glance at the dance floor and immediately regret it.

Two women and one man are practically draped over his shoulders and licking their lips, and you feel a needle prick your heart. You watch his mouth move for a moment. He’s undoubtedly utilizing his honey-sweet charm to trap one of those “friends” into spilling valuable information. Jealousy is racing through your veins like the venom of a snake. Quickly, you focus on the task at hand before he can catch you staring. It’s a good thing that you do: you spot one of the men you’re looking for. His name is Orwen, and he’s one ugly son of a bitch, with pale skin and a scar running horizontally across the top of his bald head.

When you slide gracefully onto the seat beside him, you make sure to accidentally hike your dress up to show the little bit of thigh that wasn’t already exposed in an effort to grab his attention. It works. He worms a thick arm around your waist and you try to swallow the bile rising in your throat. Instead, you focus on the cold metal of the handgun on the thigh farthest from him. 

“Aren’t you a tall glass of whiskey,” Orwen slurs as he yanks you towards him by your waist. With all of the effort you can muster, you force a snake-like smirk onto your face and lean into him enough to smell the cheap beer on his breath. 

“And I suppose a handsome fellow such as yourself is looking for a drink.” He gives you a wolfish grin and hops off the stool, roughly snatching your arm. He begins to drag you towards a side room. You venture a guess that it’s used for more…private activities. 

——

Little do you know that your partner spots you from the dance floor. As soon as he sees Orwen tug you away from the bar, his easygoing charm evaporates. Anger bubbles in his stomach and he follows a stealthy distance away from the pair of you. He saunters to the room you’re shoved into. A “do not disturb” light is on, but he knows that there are no locks on the doors to these rooms for safety reasons. He is steady as he reaches into his suit jacket to place a hand on the holster holding his pistol, but not pulling it out so as not to cause a scene.

When he opens the door, it seems he’s arrived late to the party. Orwen is lying on a neon pink bed with his head against the wall, hands behind his head. You, on the other hand, are at the end of the bed, pistol aimed straight at the raging boner in Orwen’s skinny jeans. 

“Am I interrupting anything?” Obi asks, walking to your side. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and shake your head, grinning.

“No, actually, you’re right on time. Help me with this?” 

“As you wish,” he mock bows, and moves to restrain Orwen. But before he can, a shriek echoes through the crowd.

You and Obi glance at each other before you run out to the doorway go check on the situation. One of the women sucking up to your partner has taken one of the workers hostage. The girl sobs as a knife is pressed just enough into her throat to draw a line of blood. You whirl around to glance at Obi Wan.  
“So the redhead gave you nothing? ‘Cause now she’s got a hostage and a knife,” you snap. Obi Wan swiftly handcuffs Orwen to the bedpost and scans the situation out on the dance floor. He cringes.

“Anyone tries to stop her and it’s game over for her hostage. We need to negotiate with her and find out what she’s after without setting her off,” he reasons. You huff and he raises a brow.

“Maybe if you weren’t busy flirting with her we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” You immediately regret your words as soon as they leave your mouth. You’re tired and cranky and you didn’t mean them but seeing your crush sweet-talking her earlier certainly wasn’t aiding your struggle.

“I was only fraternizing with the woman to see if she had any information, you know that,” he says calmly, though you can see him tense.

“Oh, really? I don’t see why you wouldn’t full-on flirt with her, she’s certainly a catch,” you snark, rapidly descending into a defensive position in this stupid argument that you’re really starting to wish never happened. But fire is in his eyes when he turns to you and stops the turning of the world with a soft reply.

“Because she isn’t you.”


	2. A Fire Exit. A Sword-Fight. An Overdue Discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya everyone! Thanks for your interest in the first chapter and your comments and kudos. It means the world to me. I'm sorry I couldn't update this any sooner, life couldn't be busier but I've finally churned it out. Hope you enjoy. Lmk what you think.

“Because she isn’t you.”

You thought it was impossible to have the air knocked out of your lungs without having been pushed onto the ground. Evidently not. 

Your heart feels like it’s about to tear itself out of your chest and blood is rushing to your cheeks as thousands of possibilities sprint across your thoughts. Every time you’d seen him in the past, scanned his face, or gazed at him when his back was turned, you always assumed he didn’t feel the same way, that you didn’t deserve someone so kind, so hardworking, so passionate about protecting the innocent. To your surprise and excitement, you were wrong.

Another shriek from the hostage wrenches you out of your daydreaming. The Negotiator steps into view of the abductor, but not before nodding at the collection of terrified patrons huddled near the bar and meeting your eyes. You get the gist and begin to step towards them, avoiding the neon spotlights shining from the ceiling. Scanning the room quickly, a fire exit catches your eye on the other end of the bar, just a short distance from the room Orwen expected you to ‘service’ him in. 

“Rheva, I need you to talk to me,” you hear Kenobi say calmly. His calm demeanor when negotiating never fails to shock you but you still feel an ounce of worry at his seemingly nonchalant tone in these situations. “What happened?”

You can’t afford to turn around as you begin leading partiers out of the exit. You don’t want to know the possible carnage that could ensue in the event that such a delicate position is compromised. 

“You think I’m an idiot, Kenobi?” someone sneers, you assume Rheva. “No one wears a fucking suit and tie to Kina’s, not unless they’re looking for something.” You hear an exasperated sigh from your partner and you suppress a giggle. As they continue speaking, a Togruta gives you a look of shock, probably at your giggling during a hostage situation. You shoo him to the exit. Once everyone besides a few stiff, armed guards remain, you turn to see how Obi Wan is doing, moving silently until you’re merely a few steps behind him.

“I know you’re looking for me. You and your pretty little friend,” Rheva spits, gesturing to you with her knife. At this point, the hostage, a girl who looks to be in her early twenties, is hysterical. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s frantically looking between you and Obi Wan, desperate for eye contact. Despite his deescalation expertise, you see Obi Wan tense slightly at Rheva’s not-so-fond nickname for you.  
“Rheva, we’re looking for Sarek, not you. Has he done something to you?” Obi asks softly, cautiously taking a step forward. Almost imperceptibly, Rheva starts to shake, her grip on the knife becoming weaker. Both you and your partner notice. Your partner’s patience is thicker than yours, though, as he spots you itching to quickly diffuse the situation. 

“He can’t...if I tell you I’m dead!” she shrieks. Obi Wan’s brows furrow. This is new information. If Sarek has been telling whomever he sleeps with about his plans, then you’ve had everything you need without even knowing it.

“Tell us what?” you chime in, taking a step to stand at Kenobi’s side. You hear a clatter behind you and you turn quickly, pistol drawn. A trandoshan hisses and licks his fangs, the last thing you glimpse before someone hits you in the back of your head and the world goes dark.

\---

Someone poking your cheek gently rouses you into the conscious world. You groan lazily until a harsh slap hits your cheek. At that, the world rushes into your brain like ice water dumped on a drunk sorority girl. After several rapid blinks to clear your cloudy vision, you whip your head towards the source of the hit. 

Sarek grants you a sinister grin, his lizard tongue darting out to sound a signature trandoshan hiss. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that your hands are tied behind your chair with zip ties. A spark of hope flies in your chest.

Sarek will regret not using handcuffs later.

It’s not long before that spark is snuffed out and replaced with a venomous anger. A grunt sounds from behind Sarek and your eyes dart away from his pale golden eyes. Obi Wan is in the same predicament, although his left eye is now outlined in a garish, swelling plum. As your blood boils you look around for an escape route. Nothing adorns the dusty concrete walls besides cracks and mold, so you assume however Sarek entered the room is out of your line of sight. 

“Maybe your friend isn’t as tight-lipped as you, Kenobi,” Sarek drones, and you wrench your head away when he drags a claw down your jaw. A cry escapes you when he grasps your hair and yanks your head back towards him. It’s truly painful, though, when he steps aside, still holding your hair, to show your partner. When you make eye contact with him, ashamed, his eyes widen and his mouth opens barely, only to be replaced immediately by an angry mask. “Don’t touch her, Sarek.”

“And why not? What exactly are you going to do about it tied to a chair?” Sarek giggles maniacally, his back to you but you’re sure he’s baring his teeth grotesquely. 

As quietly as possible, you begin to shimmy your hands, now in fists, out of the zip tie. It stabs into your wrists, but adrenaline and determination push you to keep pulling and twisting. Your partner notices your efforts and focuses on Sarek. He takes a leap of faith.

“We have Kaiela.”

For a moment you pause, your head shooting up to raise a shocked brow at Obi Wan, but he doesn’t return your gaze, and you quickly resume your task, praying that his risky bluff won’t get the both of you executed. You’re not too worried; Obi Wan has a 100% success rate at life-or-death mission improv thus far. 

“If you let us go, we’ll give you two a happy little reunion,” Obi snarks. Time passes as Sarek stares down at Obi Wan, who huffs a strand of hair out of his eyes, all the while maintaining Sarek’s gaze. You’ve nearly wrangled yourself out of the zip ties when Sarek’s cackle makes your heart drop. “Oh, Kenobi, you handsome idiot,” he drawls and leans forward, whispering loudly “she’s with me.”

Everything happens at once. The zip ties snap apart and you lunge for Sarek right as he turns to smirk at you. His smile vanishes and you deliver a powerful blow to his solar plexus and he crumples gracelessly to the ground. Your eyes narrow when you notice an empty sheath for a small knife on his waist and look at Obi Wan. The world screeches to a halt for the second time tonight when you see a knife sticking out of his stomach. You spring up to inspect his wound and he winces when you touch the handle. Taking it out would make matters much worse. “Christ, I’m glad you never became a doctor,” he mumbles while you snatch another knife from Sarek’s inventory.

“We don’t have much time. He’ll only be out for another minute or so. We have to leave. Were you conscious when he dragged us in here?” you ask. Obi Wan nods and looks somewhere behind you. Once you follow his gaze after cutting him free, you see a large metal door. It takes some effort, but you manage to help him limp out the door only to groan upon seeing Sarek’s garishly-decorated office. A gold chandelier hangs from the marble ceiling and plush fur rugs are piled on top of each other in a seating area by the exit, you assume to whatever ‘jail’ the two of you were dragged here from. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the starlit harbor, the ocean peacefully rolling into wooden pillars holding up the dock.

Halfway across the room: that’s how far you get before you wince upon hearing a metal slam and reptilian growl from behind you. You’re surprised when Obi Wan stands on his own to turn to Sarek, determined. Sarek, however, is not nearly as composed. Both of you sidestep Sarek’s messy charge, but you tense when he quickly pulls out...a sword? If it wasn’t for your partner slowly bleeding out and how painful your heels are getting, you'd laugh, but Sarek holds the blade to Obi Wan’s throat and backs him into the burgundy wallpaper in front of you.

By the grace of the gods, you spot an atrocious-looking display to your left, holding a gaudy and intricate broadsword. The rug helps muffle your footsteps, and the sword smoothly slides out of its mount. It’s surprisingly light and you whirl around to see Obi Wan struggling to push Sarek away. With all the strength of an MLB pitcher, you hurl the broadsword into the wall to his right. The blade sinks into the wall with a solid thunk and the practically-bedazzled handle wobbles back and forth next to Kenobi’s head. He then offers a sly grin that releases a cage of butterflies in your abdomen and yanks the sword out of the wall and brandishes it out in front of him. Sarek leaps back in the nick of time, nearly getting sliced in the belly.

You suddenly get an odd feeling of déjà vu. 

Stress festers in the pit of your stomach as you watch Obi Wan and Sarek dance around each other, composing a metal rhythm as they lunge for the other’s vital organs. Sarek’s knife is still lodged in Obi Wan’s stomach and you fidget. “Please be careful,” you yell halfheartedly over the clanging, “You do remember your stab wound, don’t you?” Obi Wan glances over at you for a split second and gives you a cheeky grin. “Are you sure I’ve been stabbed? I hardly feel a thing!” he puffs, ducking under a particularly clumsy swing from Sarek. You roll your eyes but the duel escalates quickly when the exit bangs open harshly, and in piles an assortment of trandoshans, each of them wielding a firearm of some kind. 

A snicker sounds from Obi Wan’s opponent. Kenobi drops the broadsword and backs away from Sarek and his rapidly-advancing cohorts. Tension has clogged the room at this point. It’s silent until Obi grabs a heavy-looking vase and unceremoniously chucks it at the window. Before you know it, he’s wrapped an arm around your waist and takes one, two, three steps and leaps out into the air above the water. You shriek and clutch at the back of Obi Wan’s suit jacket, shutting your eyes tight and bracing yourself for the icy plunge.

It never comes. Instead, a loud thump rattles your bones and forces your eyes open. The first thing you notice is that Obi Wan is still holding onto you. More importantly, he’s rubbing circles into your back to try and help you relax. You scramble gracelessly off of him and look around. A consistent dripping noise echoes around the space and you discover that somehow you’re in an open space under Sarek’s office, which was sticking out from the building and over the water like a sore thumb. Your eyes trace a long black wire leading from the edge of the building to your location. You squint at Obi Wan. “There’s no way you could’ve known that wire would be there.”

He chuckles. “I was fully prepared to go for a swim before I spotted it. It would’ve been a pity to ruin such a nice dress.” You stick your tongue out at him and he softly jabs you in the waist, eliciting a very mature squeak from you. Once he winces from laughter your face softens. “Let’s get you to a corner store and grab a first aid kit. If you’ve gone this long without passing out from blood loss the knife must not have punctured anything vital,” you tell him, gently touching his abdomen. He’s silent and you look up at him to see him...avoiding your gaze? You realize you’re still touching him and jerk your hand away like you’d just burned it. 

“Are you worried about me?” he laughs, beaming. In retaliation (and to hide your glowing cheeks), you move to support Obi Wan and begin to lead him out towards the street, purposely looking as far away from him as possible.

“We can buy a first aid kit at the corner store and perhaps grab a bite to eat at Dex’s?” Obi Wan suggests. You nod and the two of you walk/limp to your destination.

\---

On the sidewalk outside of Dex’s Diner, Obi Wan sits patiently, waiting for you to bring out food. You both had decided not to eat inside the restaurant and scare the customers with Obi looking so banged up. You’d carefully cleaned and stitched up his wound, and all the while he stared down at you, bewildered by your concentration and skill. 

He’d come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, only now he’s scared you don’t feel the same way. You’d always treated him like a brother, as much as it irked him sometimes. Too many times you’d come very close to catching him gazing lovingly at you while you cut down mobsters and the like. It was becoming more difficult by the day to keep his heart from tumbling out of his lips, to keep the dam shut.

His chest clenches as the memory of your pained and frightened face in Sarek’s grasp resurfaces. It cleaved straight through his soul. At that moment, he gives himself a task: he’ll make sure that you never have to be that scared again, even if it kills him. 

He is torn from his thoughts when the bell at the door of the diner chimes and you take a seat on the curb beside him, a hand offering him a Shawda club sandwich. He groans in happiness and you laugh, watching him dramatically savor the first bite. Peaches and purples swirl together in the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Its rays are cut into pieces by towering skyscrapers and buildings, the pieces hitting the sidewalk around you. The moment is peaceful but you have something to get off of your chest, you just don’t know how.

“Obi Wan-”

“I-”

You both startle. You gesture to him to speak and all at once the words he was going to say are absent from his tongue. An awkward pause fills the space between you. 

“What I said at Kina’s...I wasn’t lying,” he says firmly. “I’ve never met anyone who comes close to you. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way but I need to tell you this before something happens to me again. You’re everything to me. You’re strong and capable and you deserve the world. I just hope you can settle for me.”

When you don’t move his heart sinks into his stomach. His hope tarnished, he begins to ramble. “If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I understand. I just hope we can-” 

The defeat laced in his voice breaks you out of your shocked stupor and you whirl around, planting your palm on his mouth. He quiets, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You press your forehead to his, giggling from relief and the last of your adrenaline. Your hand falls to cup his jaw, his beard soft under your fingers.

“Shut up and kiss me, you reckless dork.”

Obi’s face splits in a grin as he finally kisses you, pulling you closer at the nape of your neck and his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your other hand is splayed on his chest as you break for air and you initiate the next searing kiss, tugging him with both hands by the collar of his torn dress shirt. You hear his muffled chuckle at your unbridled enthusiasm. 

You push him away to make sure it isn’t some kind of twisted dream, but you’re instead greeted by a rather attractive sight. Obi Wan is panting, his cheeks dark and one button undone on his dress shirt, revealing his collarbone and the top of his chest. 

“I’m offended that you called me a ‘reckless dork’ when you just aggressively made out with me,” Obi Wan snarks, grinning. 

“Oh shut it, you loved it.”

“I suppose it was alright…although it couldn't hurt to practice."


End file.
